


Lay Me Down in Sheets of Linen

by graytheglowinggay



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Body Worship, Choking, Collars, Cowgirl Position, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Lube, M/M, Married Sex, Massage, Old Age, Oral Sex, Paddling, Pillow Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Title from an Elton John Song, Trans Male Character, Trans Sir Hammerlock, Trans Wainwright Jakobs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graytheglowinggay/pseuds/graytheglowinggay
Summary: Sir Hammerlock returns home from a hunt, and he and his husband decide to have a little fun together.
Relationships: Sir Hammerlock/Wainwright Jakobs
Kudos: 6





	Lay Me Down in Sheets of Linen

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer for my smut: here be non-op trans men having fun and sexy times with each other. Read at your own discretion.

As much as Alistair Hammerlock enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of tracking down his quarry, there was something unparalleled about the joy that came from returning home to his husband, Wainwright. The two of them often had their most passionate times together after Alistair had been away, and Wainwright had said that he often spent those lonely nights in their empty bed planning what he’d do to his loving sub once they were reunited. Sometimes, Alistair would offer up ideas of his own, but more often than not, he’d let his dearest dom surprise him.

When Alistair entered the Jakobs Manor, he was surprised to find that the parlor where Wainwright usually waited for him was empty. Alistair felt the cushion of the plush armchair that was his husband’s favorite. It was still warm, so he probably hadn’t been gone for long. Perhaps he’d gone to the bathroom. Well, Wainwright wasn’t in the bathroom, but, yet again, there was a trace of his recent presence: the sink was still damp. It felt like he was on another hunt, this time tracking down the most clever and elusive prey of them all. However, even for all of Wainwright’s cleverness, he was a creature of habit, and Alistair knew those habits well.

“Hello, Winny,” Alistair said as he entered the bedroom.

“Alistair,” Wainwright replied, his voice dark and soft. “How was your trip?”

“Quite dull, I’m afraid. Nothing but dead end after dead end.”

“Well, my time while y’were gone was anythin’ but dull,” Wainwright replied. “Y’see, somethin’ special finally arrived, and I’ve been just dyin’ to try it out.” Wainwright picked up a paddle from where it sat beside him on the bed and tapped it slowly against his hand.

It was high-quality lumber, sourced from the same logs that were used to make the stocks for Jakobs guns. Excluding the handle, it was about the length of Wainwright’s forearm, and slightly wider, with the thickness of a knuckle’s length. The clear lacquer coating made the grain of the wood stand out even more, and the base of the handle was burned with Wainwright’s initials in a calligraphic font. All in all, it was a very handsome piece of wood.

“A paddle? How very old-fashioned of you, Winny. I’m surprised,” Alistair said. “However will you use it?”

“Oh, there’s all sorts of ways you can use a paddle, Alistair,” Wainwright replied. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. There’s other things that need to get done first.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we’re both still clothed, for one.”

Wainwright stood up from the bed and grabbed Alistair by the front of his hunting jacket; he kissed him fiercely before throwing him onto the bed, pinning him down. Alistair moved to remove his jacket, but Wainwright stopped him.

“Before we get all hot and bothered, though, I’ve got a favor to ask of ya, darlin’,” Wainwright said. “My hands are awfully tired from havin’ to please myself while y’were gone… I think I need one of your hand massages.”

“Of course you can have one, Winny,” Alistair replied. “Though I will have to ask you to let me up so I can grab the lotion.”

“Naturally,” Wainwright said. He rolled over off of Alistair so the other man could get up.

“Have a scent in mind, dearest?” Alistair asked, looking through their small collection of lotions and body oils.

“How about the sandalwood?” Wainwright replied.

“Excellent choice.” Alistair selected the lotion in question and returned to the bed.

Wainwright offered his left hand to Alistair. Alistair took it and rubbed it with lotion before massaging the palm.

“You say you had to pleasure yourself alone,” Alistair said. “What exactly caused you to land yourself in such a predicament?” He massaged the thumb side of Wainwright’s hand.

“I was workin’ on my plans for our reunion when I found myself… distracted,” Wainwright explained. “Got a little bit ahead of myself, quite frankly.”

“Would you care to enlighten me about said plans?” Alistair shifted his focus from the palm of Wainwright’s hand to his fingers, kissing his wedding ring once he reached it.

“Well, you’ve already seen part of my plans,” Wainwright said. “I was plannin’ on paddlin’ that fine ass of yours ‘til y’can’t sit properly. But before all that, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Alistair looked up from Wainwright’s other hand. “And what might that be, Winny?”

“Do ya know that you’re mine?” Wainwright asked.

“Of course I know, Sir,” Alistair replied.

“Y’see, when I was getting that paddle, I got something else for ya,” Wainwright said. 

He reached underneath Alistair’s pillow and pulled out a leather collar. It was a dark brown a few shades away from black, about half as wide as Alistair's index finger was long, and stamped with “WJ” in the same font as the paddle.

“Thank you, Sir,” Alistair said. He turned his back to his husband, so Wainwright could put it on. It was snug against his neck; the rounded edges pushing into his skin reminded him of the feeling of leather handcuffs.

“Shit, darlin’, that collar’s really something. Makes me fuckin’ hard just lookin’ at it,” Wainwright said.

“Whatever you need, Sir, I am yours to use,” Alistair replied.

Wainwright cupped his husband’s face with both hands, and Alistair took his right thumb into his mouth and started sucking it.

“Good boy,” Wainwright said. He pulled the thumb out and replaced it with his first two fingers, which Alistair sucked on obediently. “What do ya think of Sir’s hands?

Alistair pulled away. “I think they’re absolutely perfect, Sir,” Alistair replied.

“Care to elaborate?”

“They’re so handsome, Sir. They’re so strong and sexy, and I love it when you fuck my holes with them,” Alistair said. “I love it when you choke me when I’m being a bad boy, and when you play with my hair when I’m a good boy.”

“Well, are ya gonna be a good boy or a bad boy today?” Wainwright asked.

“A good boy, Sir.”

“Is that right, darlin’?” Wainwright asked. “Because if I recall correctly, ya weren’t exactly a good boy while y’were gone.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about, Sir.”

“The video you sent me? The one of ya fuckin’ yourself in the woods?”

“Oh, dear.”

“That was very bad of you, darlin’,” Wainwright said. “Y’knew that was naughty.”

“I-I had no idea, Sir.”

“Is that so? Because I recall tellin’ ya not t’touch yourself until y’got got back.”

“I don’t remember you saying that.”

Wainwright put his hand on Alistair's throat but didn’t squeeze. Alistair looked away as he felt his cheeks grow hot.

“Maybe, perhaps, you said something in passing about such restrictions.”

Wainwright moved his hand further up so the space between his thumb and forefinger pressed against the top of Alistair's throat, under his jaw.

“You seem to have found a way to jog my memory. You did say something about that.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Now, darlin’, you and I both know that ain’t good enough,” Wainwright said. He stood up. “Strip.”

Alistair untied his boot and set them neatly by the door along with his sock. He removed his hat and hung it on its hook, with his glove inside. He unbuttoned his jacket, slowly enough to tease, while not so slow as to provoke more punishment than he already had coming. The jacket, along with his trousers and undershirt, were simply left in a pile on the floor, as they were dirty and sweaty from his hunting trip and needed to be washed before they could be worn again. He reached behind to unhook the clasps of his bra and let it slip off his shoulders. He pulled off his underwear and kicked them on top of the pile with the rest of his clothes.

“Beautiful…” Wainwright said. “Simply beautiful.”

“You really think so, Sir?”

“Of course I do. Kneel.”

Alistair kneeled before his dom, his face mere inches away from Wainwright’s crotch. By the bulge in his jeans, Alistair could tell that his husband was packing, though what it was he did not know. Alistair leaned forward and kissed the bulge.

“Y’want it?” Wainwright asked.

“So badly, Sir.”

“Now, Alistair, cock is for good boys. And you haven’t been a good boy.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I said it before, Al, sorry ain’t good enough,” Wainwright patted his lap. “Bend over.”

Alistair laid down across Wainwright’s lap, positioning himself so his ass was bent over Wainwright’s right knee.

“Now we’re gonna get to the paddle soon enough, but I’m not gonna give you that satisfaction right off.” He rubbed Alistair’s ass in a circle before slapping it.

Alistair’s ass stung slightly with the force of the blow, but he knew it was only a warm-up compared to what the session held in store for him.

“Did that hurt?” Wainwright asked. Alistair said nothing. “I’m not gonna let you keep your lips shut for long, Alistair. Sooner or later, you’re gonna crack.”

It was a game that Alistair was familiar with, the cat-and-mouse exchange that played a large role in any BDSM exchange. The longer he held out and endured through Wainwright’s punishment, the greater the pain would become— and within that pain, the reward.

Wainwright spanked him one, two, three, four, five more times with his open palm. Each time, Alistair gave him no response. Wainwright rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Ya really think you’re something, don’t ya? Some master of endurance? A martyr and an example fo’those suffering the galaxy over? Well, ya aren’t. You’re just a dramatic, prissy prick, an’ before long I’ll’ve wiped that self-righteous poker face right off your pretty lips,” Wainwright said.

“Breaking out the insults, are we? How very mature of you.”

“You watch your damn tongue, boy, before I punish ya for your further disobedience.”

“Make me.”

Those two words sent Wainwright over the edge. They always did. He roughly shoved Alistair off his lap and onto the bed. He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling the length of the shirt around the yoke so it became a rolled-up length with the sleeves sticking out on either side.

“Open wide,” Wainwright said. Always happy to see his dominant show his more forceful side, Alistair opened his mouth. Wainwright shoved the shirt in his mouth and tied the sleeves around the back of his head. He chuckled. “Try back-talking through that.” 

He picked up the paddle and sat back down. “As you were, boy.” He hit the paddle against the palm of his left hand.

Alistair returned to the position, primed for punishment.

“Now, when ya sent me that video, I’m sure y’were thinkin’ all sorts of things. ‘Oh, spending all this time in the woods away from my dear husband has got me all hot and bothered.’,” Wainwright said, mocking his husband’s proper way of speaking. “ ‘I simply must gratify myself, even though he specifically told me not to. How do I ensure I’m not punished for breaking his very simple and easy-to-follow rules? Oh, I know! I’ll film myself getting down and dirty in the woods and send it to him. Simply brilliant, Alistair!’. Is that what went through your head?”

Alistair tried his best to say “I was horny and wasn’t thinking straight”, but through the makeshift gag, it came out muffled and unintelligible.

“That’s what I thought,” Wainwright said. “Well, given how damn hot the video was, I’ll forgive your little attempt to pull one over on me. However, just because I forgive ya doesn’t mean that I won’t punish ya. If I don’t follow through with punishment, you’ll get into that head of yours that I’m soft, an’ we simply can’t have that, now can we?”

Alistair wiggled slightly in Wainwright’s lap; the closest he had to a response.

“Glad you agree. Don’t be afraid to get noisy, Al. That’s what the gag’s for.”

Wainwright didn’t pull his arm as far back as he would to spank Alistair with his hand, or with a spanking implement they were more familiar with, such as a riding crop or a belt. He drew the paddle back, then hesitated. He set it down beside him and untied the shirt, removing it from Alistair’s mouth.

“Sorry to take ya out of the scene, darlin’, but I’d prefer t’be able to hear ya, just in case something goes poorly,” Wainwright said. He unrolled the shirt and threw it on top of Alistair's clothes.

“That’s quite alright with me, Winny. I appreciate your care.”

“Well, I’d be a pretty shitty dom without it. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.” He rubbed the paddle against Alistair’s ass before drawing it back and slapping,

“Oh!”

“Now, ain’t that somethin’? Never got that much of a response out of ya on the first hit with just my hand, now did I? Oh, this is gonna be perfect.”

Wainwright hit him again, the sound of the impact full and loud.

“You’re gonna be so red and sore when I’m done with ya today.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Thanking me? Wow, this paddle really is doing something to ya. Say it again.”

“Thank you for punishing me, Sir,” _Smack_ . “I’m an awful naughty boy who broke the rules and needs to be punished for it,” _Smack_ . “I don’t deserve your cock because I’m so bad,” _Smack_. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Tears began rolling down his cheeks. Wainwright stopped spanking.

“Do ya need us to stop?” he asked.

“These are good tears, Winny. Very good tears. Please, keep going,” Alistair replied.

“That’s all the encouragement I need, darlin’.” He hit his sub again.

Alistair let out a yelp and bit down on his fist to muffle the sound. His tears dripped onto Wainwright’s pants.

“One more hit and you’ll have served your punishment, boy,” _Smack_. Wainwright set down the paddle and guided Alistair into an upright position. “Ya did a good job. How d’ya feel?”

“So good, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“In fact, I think you’ve done such a good job that you’ve earned a reward. On your knees, boy.”

Eager for whatever his dom had in store, Alistair kneeled in front of him. Wainwright unzipped and removed his pants, exposing the positionable strap-on he had bent and tucked between his legs. He bent it back into a shape more suitable for penetration.

“Is this what ya wanted?”

“Oh, yes, yes yes, Sir. You know how badly I want it.”

“Good. Now, before ya get pounded like y’so rightly deserve, I’m gonna need some gratification of my own,” Wainwright unbuckled the harness of the strap-on and pulled down his underwear, kicking them off without a care. He spread his lower lips, exposing his wet erection. “Do ya know what I want ya to do, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Alistair leaned forward and began enthusiastically sucking Wainwright’s clitdick. He licked and sucked with hungry desperation, his nose brushing against grey tufts of pubic hair. Wainwright gripped Alistair’s hair tightly, ensuring that his husband wouldn’t pull away— though, at that moment, the possibility seemed about as likely as drought on Eden-6.

“Oh, how I missed your mouth, Alistair. My fingers can’t even compete.”

Alistair gave a barely perceptible nod and continued his hungry sucking, relishing the compliment from his dom. Wainwright’s thighs began to close, a sign that he was nearing orgasm.

“Don’t ya dare stop, boy. Don’t ya dare fuckin’ stop.”

Alistair didn’t. It felt like his skull was crushed when his husband came with a stuttering gasp, which was followed by his grip on his husband’s hair loosening and his thighs opening.

“How did I do, Sir?”

“By my count, that was pretty fuckin’ fantastic,” He picked up the strap-on and tried to put it back on, his fingers fumbling with the closures. “Just gotta catch my breath.”

Alistair put his hand on Wainwright’s. “Allow me, Winny.” He buckled the harness.

“Not used to being so out of breath from that.”

“Sometimes that just happens. Why don’t we try a position that might be a little easier for you?”

“I’m fine, I can still fuck ya,” Wainwright said with a wave of his hand.

Alistair put a hand on Wainwright’s shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

He stood up and began arranging pillows so Wainwright could be partially sitting up on the bed. He patted the spot to indicate that it was where his husband should go. Wainwright laid down and put his hands behind his head. Alistair straddled him and started rubbing the head of the dildo against his clitdick.

“One of those cowboy positions? Aren’t we a little too old for that?”

“Nonsense, Winny! It will allow you to relax while I get, quote, ‘pounded like I so rightly deserve’.”

“Aren’t ya a clever bastard?”

“Perhaps a little.” Alistair stopped rubbing and eased himself down onto the dildo, moaning as it filled him up.

“Hell of a view.”

“I knew you’d enjoy it,” Alistair started moving his hips up and down and around in circles, rubbing his cock as he did. “Now isn’t this simply wonderful?”

“I still think it could be better,” Wainwright reached up and cupped his husband’s breasts. “Now I’ve got somethin’ to occupy my hands.”

“Oh, just something?”

“What would y’rather I say? That these are the finest set of tits in the seven galaxies?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not! They’re an absolutely fantastic set of tits attached to an absolutely fantastic man.”

“I didn’t know it was your turn to be the flatterer.”

“Can’t help it, Alistair. I see a handsome man an' I can’t help bein’ honest.” 

“Damn that silver tongue of yours,” Alistair leaned down and kissed him. “Oh, this feels simply wonderful.” He bounced up and down on his husband’s strap.

“Looks like it, too,” One of Wainwright’s hands drifted down Alistair’s body to his hip. “Would ya like me to do the rubbin’, darlin’?”

“Yes, please.”

Wainwright stroked Alistair’s wet cock as the man took the entire length of the strap deep inside of him, using his free hand to rub a nipple for additional stimulation.

“Winny, I’m so close. Choke me.”

“With pleasure.” 

Wainwright’s right hand settled in a familiar spot, thumb and forefinger about an inch below the jawbone, palm resting against his Adam’s apple, and squeezed. The pressure, the sensation, the beautiful loss of control, sent Alistair over the edge. He climaxed, hard, and fell against Wainwright’s chest.

“That was beautiful,” Wainwright said.

“And hot?”

“And hot.”

“Up for a second round?”

“Yeah, but—”

Alistair unbuckled the strap-on and slid two fingers between Wainwright’s legs, only for them to come away barely damp.

“I don’t know why, but sometimes I just don’t get wet. I’m turned on— hell, probably the most I’ve been all night— but nothing happens.”

“That’s alright, Winny.” Alistair stood up to put the strap-on away. Wainwright removed the shirt that he'd neglected to remove the entire time. “Would you still like me to do something?”

“That would be lovely.”

He put away the strap-on and picked up a bottle of lube, squeezing some onto his fingers and putting the bottle on the nightstand. Wainwright spread his legs, and Alistair slid two fingers inside.

“Still feels just as good as the first time,” Wainwright said. “Your fingers have a talent.”

“No more than yours, I assure you.”

“Nonsense, darlin’. When ya put your fingers in my hole it’s like a damn party.”

“A party, huh? That would be a very strange party, indeed.”

“Oh, shut up,” Wainwright said. “How’s your ass holding up?”

“No more painful than usual. It was more so the new sensation that brought me to tears, rather than the severity of it.”

“That’s good t’hear,” His breath caught in his throat. “Just like that, Alistair. Feels really fuckin’ good.”

“I do what I can to please the man I love.” He kissed Wainwright’s hand.

“Just a little more—”

He gasped and arched his back, experiencing a second, smaller orgasm. Alistair pulled his fingers out and wiped them on his shirt. He laid down and pressed his naked body against that of his husband.

“We still need to clean up.”

“Oh, fuck that. It can wait,” Alistair replied. “I’m quite tired, Winny, and I’d like to take a nap. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to do just that, and you’ll be joining me.”

Wainwright rolled his eyes. “Well, when you phrase it so persuasively, I’m not exactly gonna say no.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was five months in the making, and for some reason, I got the inspiration to finish it now. So, thank you, nebulous smut inspiration, for showing up when I least expect it. These two are probably one of, if not my favorite pairing for BDSM play, so this certainly won't be the last we'll be seeing from their bedroom.


End file.
